Watching The Fanblades
by apreslapetitmort
Summary: These violent delights have violent ends. Butters is trapped in his own Hell, with Kenny as his Devil. Collab with ChocolateSugarCube. Rated M for Rape, slash, abuse, etc. Bunny.
1. Kenny: Watching The FanBlades

**Right. This is ChocolateSugarCube's chapter. She's writing as Kenny, i'm writing as Butters. Different chapter, different POV. See how it works? Yeah (:  
-PseuDORK**

I feel overworked. I will get on with Vanilla Coffee when I've done my collab time with pseuDORK. She threatened me to finish this! D: So anyway, here we are. Bunny abuse fic. Its kinda... dark angst love rape with very slightly fluff? I dont know. Its... mine? XD Well, I wrote it, but it still belongs to pseuDORK, since she owns me. And the characters belong to their creators -Worship- The song mentioned is Only One by Yellowcard. Lyrics in italics as usual.

* * *

"K-Kenny..? Are you home?"  
I make an random "Uhh" noise as a reply, looking up at the ceiling fan spinning. He comes up the stairs to find me, and tries two of the other upstairs rooms before finding me in the bedroom.  
He drops the bag he's carrying by the bedroom door, and hesitantly sits on the bed next to me.

"Kenny..? Are you okay?"  
"Mhmm."  
"Do you want anything to eat or something?"  
"Or something." "...Now?"  
"Yeah, now."  
"But-"

I dont listen to the rest, in favour of grabbing is waist and pulling him over me. He squeaks and his eyes already look like hes going to cry as I fiercely bite at his lips and tounge. He's mine, and theres no way he should ever forget that. I move down to his collar bone, biting all the way down. He's shaking, and moaning in that way that he does when he isnt sure if he'd allowed to or not, I love it. It means he knows he needs my permission for everything, every sound he makes, every emotion he feels, it's all mine.  
I love this feeling, it's addictive and I need more, now.

"K-Kenny, please... Not no-"

I growl at him and he stops talking, good. That's how it should be, he's mine and he knows it. Mine, all of this, mine. I don't bother with his top, it isn't in the way of anything I want to see, have, own, so it can stay. I glance at him, gesturing downward, and he knows what I'm asking, demanding. He moves down my body, licking, kissing and sucking at my bare chest as he's been taught, catching the right places to make me moan and pull at his silky yellow hair, at least 3 shades brighter then my own washed out, dull white-blonde hair. He reaches my off-white boxers and glances up at me again, asking me silently to please let him escape, just this once. I reply by forcing his face into the crotch of my boxers, grinding my hips against his face.

"Do it well, bitch. Your fucking spit is the only lube you're getting. Thirty seconds."

He squeaks again, pulling my boxers down quickly. I find he responds better with a time limit, and I'm usually proved right. I feel seal his hand lightly around the base of my cock, moving his hand in time with the wet licks over the rest of it.

"Twenty."

He begins taking my dick into his mouth and I can feel his saliva dripping down onto my pelvis. He's definately better at this, I've trained him well. My hands fidget with his hair, sometimes pulling harshly, other times brushing gently through, stroking him.

"Ten."

He forces himself to take the whole of my cock into his mouth, and I can see tears falling down from his ocean eyes. His tears for me, they're mine. I give him an extra five minutes, bucking my hips, forcing my cock further down his throat, keeping him there by tugging at his hair. He starts choking, throat constricting futher around me and I just shove myself deeper into his mouth briefly before pulling out and watching him gasp for breath.

I pull his briefs off from under the denim skirt he's wearing and pull him down, impaling him on my hard length. His head tips back, mouth falling open silently. His small hands fumble for something to hold onto while his mind tries to adjust to the extreme pain. I felt him tear, and now I can feel his blood trickling down onto my skin, then onto the bed.  
Tears fall onto my chest, and cant help but to find a sick satisfaction in that. After a while of struggling to keep himself up, to save the shred of pride he has left, he collapses on my chest sobbing silently. I stroke his hair, muttering words with no meaning to him. He squeaks softly when I say something that particualarly insults or humilates him as I begin thrusting into him. I don't expect him to do anything, so I just thrust up into him and enjoy his small noises, shaking and warm tears. I come inside him sooner then I expected, and he cried out softly. He has his arms around my neck, clinging to me hopelessly, and his bitten finger nails scrape lightly at the nape of my neck. I sigh happily, even as I start to feel band about his shaking, sobbing form.

I kiss him lightly, and carefully move him on the bed, like a glass ornament. A broken one that may completely fall apart with the wrong handling. He cries into the pillow beneath his head, nuzzling into itb as if it could save him. I wipe myself off on a towel half hanging out the washing basket, and pull on a T-shirt and new boxers. I glance at him once more before going downstairs to the kitchen mostly because I hated to see him cry when we weren't fucking, partly because I didnt want to be part of this. That's stupid, I'm already part of this, I caused this.

I randomly hit the radio on, and the noise of some high-paid moron fills the space of thinking. "-For that interview, and we'll be right back after this song."  
I get a beer out the fridge and slump down on the table. Music always makes me think, and this isnt a time I want to be thinking. I should turn it off, but I dont.

_Broken this fragile thing now  
And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces  
And I've thrown my words all around  
But I can't, I can't give you a reason_

I hate it when the radio plays songs I know, well, I hate it right now anyway. I feel... Really bad right now, I dont know why. Well, I do, but it's never made me feel like this before. I slump down futher on the table and think of my 'lover' upstairs on the bed. He probably hasnt moved yet, sometimes when I go back up later, he's still in exactly the same place as I left him. I always used this as an excuse to hurt him again.

_Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you  
You are my only one  
I let go, but there's just no one that gets me like you  
You are my only, my only one_

I think back to earlier, why didn't I care that he didn't want me to fuck him? Why didn't I listen to him asking, begging, me to stop? Why did I enjoy his pain-filled sobbing? I feel disgusted at myself. How did we get here? I hear the shower turn on upstairs. Usually this would be a chance to violate him more, defile the beauty that is him at his purest. The radio keeps playing obnoxiously, the lyrics striking me like I had to him thousands of times before.

_Made my mistakes, let you down  
And I can't, I can't hold on for too long  
Ran my whole life in the ground  
And I can't, I can't get up when you're gone_

I can't remember a time I didnt enjoy those ocean blue eyes sparkling, either with the happiness that's rare these days, or with the tears I force on him. I remember the first time I hurt him though, well, at least the first time in this relationships, if you could call it that.

"K-Kenny? What are you..?" "Just... Shut the fuck up for a bit. You're annoying me."  
"K-Kenny... I dont..."  
"You dont know what you want. Just take it."  
"Mmf!"  
"Fucking whore...

He cried a lot that night, even more then he does now, and looked up at me with sparkling blues that never looked so betrayed before. Later that night, I appologied to him, promised him it'd never happen again, and now we're worse off now then ever. I miss the way his eyes used to sparkle with happiness instead of tears, or the way he used to flush with annoyance when I did something wrong. Now he just cries, all the time. I can barely remember what he looks like when he isnt crying or scared.

I realise the song has ended, and shake myself out of my thoughts. It can't go on like this, but it will. I hate myself for loving his tears, his fear, for loving him. I wish I could leave him, get away from here and let him start again. I wish he'd leave me, run away and start again for himself. But he wont, I knew that when I started this. He won't leave, he won't tell anyone, he won't help himself. I want him to save himself, because I can feel him breaking under my hands.  
Love isn't all you need, I think to myself, leaning forward on the table. I rest my forehead on my palms and groan in... In what? Annoyance, pity, sadness, frustration. I lean back on my chair and watch the fan blades spin, listening to the 'swish' from them, listening to him crying upstairs, listening to the the glass break.

* * *

**Well, I don't actually like this pairing very much. There are a lot of Kenny pairings I like better, though I do like this Butters pairing a lot. Eh. I dont know... I like it, I dont like it. I dont know. Review please?**

**-Misa **


	2. Butters: Shattered Glass

**Okay guys. It's actually me this time, PseuDORK. I should be having a shower, or a lady wank, or maybe even putting more clothes on (There's no one in the house. I like walking around in a t-shirt and underwear, okay?) but I'm not. Instead, i'm going to give you something more to read; this is before my crappy college gives me some goddamn more coursework to do. Grrrr. This chapter is the last chapter written in Butters' POV.  
The songs used are Only One by Yellowcard and Linger by The Cranberries. Lyrics are italisized (:  
**

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I'd woken up to sunshine, it spilled onto my face, like a reminder that I'd never feel that kind of warmth from Kenny. But I didn't let myself think on it, I never did. He'd gone already, which I was thankful for. Sometimes he stayed and was late for work, just to pull my ass apart and slap me around a bit. I decided I wouldn't go to work today; I wanted to have some fun. I'd pulled on my denim skirt and a pink shirt, I'd put my hair up in a ponytail and made my eyes up dramatically. No work, I'd skipped down to the park to play with some friends I'd made. But all too soon I was taking the trip back home, my steps heavy and my heart heavier.

"K-Kenny? Are you home?" I hate the way my voice sounds so weak and nervous, when seconds ago I'd been stealing a rare moment of laughter. I think I can hear him snuffling about upstairs, so I guess I have to climb them, ask him how work went, and wait for him to be done with me.

I find him easily enough and drop my bags.

"Kenny..? Are you okay?" For crying out loud, I sound like a pussy!  
"Mhmm."  
Do you want anything to eat or something?"  
"Or something." Fuck. Why did I ask?  
"Now?"  
"Yeah, now."  
"But-"

I'm cut off as he grabs me and shoves me against him; He's small but his hands are crushing me, and his greedy mouth sets my lips on fire- not from passion, but from the pain of having them almost-bleeding. It's hot, but it hurts. I can't tell if I'm whimpering in pain or pleasure. I resist the urge to cry out, to fuel him. But when he bites fiercly on my collar bone I have to say something, "K-Kenny, please... Not no-" His feral growl scares the crap outta me and I decide it's shut up and do, or moan and die time. He casts a hand down his body and I know what I have to do. He's 'taught' me all his places, and slaps me if I forget any one of them. I'm on form today, though, I just wish I could slow down the torture that I know is about to come. I'm at his crotch, begging him with my eyes, _Not now, _I silently plead, _please, just let me go. I can't do this anym-_

"Do it well, bitch." His voice is deep and husky and... fucking terrifying, "Your fucking spit is the only lube you're getting. Thirty seconds." Fuck, I know he means it. He means this more than the times he used to tell me he was sorry- Of course, he's not sorry anymore. I pull his greying boxers down and oblige- licking his cock and trying not to gag even at this small contact.

"Twenty" Shit

I force myself to put him all into my mouth, and I'm salivating with the effort- which will call in my favor later when he's- I have to force back a wince as I think fo what's to come. Fuck, he's yanking my hair so hard I wish I hadnt GOT any. Ouch.

"Ten" This is it

I have to shove him in me fully, down my throat even if I puke. It's making my eyes water, which is making it harder not to cry. I wish he was still sorry for this, I wish I could escape, but I never could, never can, and never will. I'm trapped in this. I'm trapped with him face-fucking me, ass-raping me and beating me to within an inch of my life. He's out of my mouth now, and I should be relieved only I know what's coming next.

With a quick flip my cute panda panties are on the floor and he's shoving himself inside me.I can't take the searing hot pain riding up my spine, I can feel my fingers scrabbling against his back, but I don't register that they're my fingers, that it's his back. All I can feel is... blood. Blood and the salty tears falling down my cheeks. I can feel a rumble of laughter coming from his chest, and I cry harder. _Fuck._ I won't collapse, I wo- Great. He's won. I'm propping myself up on his chest, singing _Twinkle twinkle little star _to distract myself from all of this, but it's not working. I can hear him muttering things to me, and they just make me worse. Little noises of pain escape my lips every now and then, and a larger one does when I feel his cum mingle with my blood.

I feel him sigh against me, pull himself out of me and kiss me gently; I feel it all, but none of it registers. I can hear him moving about downstairs, and the muffled sounds of the radio plays out.

_Broken this fragile thing now  
And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces  
And I've thrown my words all around  
But I can't, I can't give you a reason_

I decide that the song is chance, and hate the fact that the lyrics are so apologetic, when the man listening to them is not. Ive got to drown them out with my own song- both Kenny and the radio- so I sing softly to myself, still in a pile on the bed.

_"Im sure Im not being rude  
But its just your attitude  
Its tearing me apart  
Its ruining everything"_

I won't let him ruin me this time. Not fully. With a sigh I take off the rest of my clothing. And, wincing, I make my way to the bathroom, blood trickling down the back of my legs. It fucking hurts. Each time I tell myself I'll get used to it, and each time I tell myself that it's not as bad as the last time- that's only because it's worse. With effort that feels almost as bad as the 'sex' I reach up to turn the shower on and sing some more, letting the hot water wash away the filth.

_"Oh, I thought the world of you  
I thought nothing could go wrong  
But I was wrong  
I was wrong  
If you, if you could get by  
Trying not to lie  
Things wouldnt be so confused  
And I wouldnt feel so used  
But you always really knew  
I just wanna be with you"_

With a whimper, I let myself sink into the bathtub, pain overcoming every limb, dispair painting my mind. I'll never escape this Hell, and Kenny will never stop being my Devil. I gather the last of my strength and punch the glass shower-guard, relishing the feel of blood seeping down my arm. The pain I caused. The pain he wouldn't, couldn't cause. I take a large peice and push down on my wrist, drawing it down my arm, whimpering and crying again.

_Do you have to, do you have to let it linger?_

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**Righto. Both chapters. Both POVs. Butters abuse. I dont like it, but its fun to write.**_  
_**Where will this fic lead? Fuck knows. Not even the authors have a proper plot xD But anyway.  
RnR please. **

**-Kitty**


End file.
